The ancient gate, a monolith of obsidian engraved with shifting symbols and glowing with a spooky silver light, towered over them. At its threshold, Grayson, Emery, and the Forgotten warriors stood, their faces lit by the rippling blackness that swept over its surface. Instead of remaining motionless, the gate pulsed, its shape changing like a liquid shadow to expose warped reflections of the outside world.
A warped cityscape glistened and vanished. A childhood home appeared and then vanished in a haze of black mist. Recollections? Or cautions?
With his ghostly appearance scarcely differentiable from the surrounding emptiness, the leader of the Forgotten came forward. The weight of innumerable abandoned souls was in his voice. "The Shadowbound King's influence will follow you after you cross."
Grayson let out a breath that turned into a fine mist. His claws dug into his palms as he clinched his fists. He could hardly comprehend the strength of the darkness that already slithered in his veins.
"After that, I'll make sure I manage it before it manages me."
Emery glanced at him, her emerald eyes glimmering with unsaid concern, but she remained silent. They were both aware that there was no going back.
Grayson moved forward slowly and determinedly, and the gate reacted. It shuddered, murmuring in a language that had been forgotten.
The gate refused to give.
Grayson was stopped in his tracks by an invisible but unavoidable force that resisted his motion. From inside the obsidian arch came a deep, guttural sound, a sound of hunger rather than stone.
"There's a problem," Emery said.
The Forgotten appeared unsurprised. Their leader's voice sounded like the rustle of dry leaves as he turned his soulless eyes to Grayson. "People can only leave if they give up something of themselves."
Grayson's heartbeat accelerated. "What was abandoned?"
"Your history. You yourself. Your spirit.
A person started to emerge from the shadows underneath him. A younger, unaffected by power, but flawless, ethereal version of himself. Free from the burden of conflict.
Its eyes were familiar, knowing as it gazed at him. The final trace of his former self before he regained his power.
The Forgotten whispered, "This is the price." What's left of your former self must be destroyed. The gate will only let you in after that.
Grayson recognised the specter's silence. He was no stranger to the price of power. Now, however, he had to use it against himself in order to proceed.
His throat constricted as his fingers jerked towards the sword at his side. He was the only one who made the choice.
And there would be no going back once it was made.
Through the murky mist swirling at its base, the ancient gate whispered, pulsing like a living thing. Despite the emotional tempest blazing inside of him, Grayson kept his breath calm and clinched his fists. He was flanked by the Forgotten warriors, whose ghostly shapes wavered as though the gate might unmake them.
Then there was an attack.
The silence was broken by a violent explosion that sent debris flying. The once-grand pillars of the ruins crumbled like weak bones as they shook. Cloaked in their master's abyssal force, Sarah and the Shadow Order arose from the smoke.
Swords clashed. Shadows squirmed. The night was filled with screams.
Sarah's twin daggers struck like fangs on Grayson before he could even react. The hit sent a numbing sensation through his arms as he parried.
"You don't get it, do you?" With something more than anger—more than loyalty—burning in her crimson eyes, Sarah snarled. "Grayson, you were never supposed to live. The Order was fully aware of your transformation.
Her knives were not as strong as her words. Grayson's thoughts whirled. His path had always been shaped by the Order, which had always been one step ahead. However, this?
Sarah's face contorted, almost apologetic. Do you believe I was assigned to murder you? No. I was assigned to ensure that you followed this path, to force you to face your destiny."
Grayson almost avoided her next blow. It came to him like a slap across the chest. Like he had been, she was but another pawn.
The combat surrounding them subsided for a minute. The two of them stood alone on the precipice of fate, neither of them aware of the extent to which they had given up themselves for powers beyond their horizon.
With his blade raised, Grayson stood above Sarah. He had won. It didn't feel like one, though, for once.
With her daggers left behind, Sarah lay on the shattered ground, gasping for air. Her eyes had lost their blaze, yet it wasn't dread that lay there. It was comprehension.
With a firm yet low voice, Grayson declared, "Sarah, you're already dead to them." "Get out of here before it's too late."
Her countenance changed for a single, fleeting second. It all broke down: the blind loyalty, the sorrow, and the hate. Perhaps she would have paid attention. Together, they might have been able to defy the Order.
The gate, however, had other ideas.
From its depths came a force unlike anything that has ever been before. Before Sarah could make a move, the shadows encircled her like skeleton hands. A choked gasp of breath stopped in her throat.
The Shadowbound King's words echoed through the rubble, penetrating the very foundations of reality.
"A single heir may depart."
Sarah's eyes went wide with fear. She fought, fighting against the abyss, but the gate was ruthless.
"Grayson—!" As she was drawn into the emptiness and completely engulfed by the darkness, her scream was cut off.
Then there was quiet.
The fog subsided. There are still ruins. The conflict was over.
Standing there with shaky palms, Grayson gazed at the spot where she had been. He was crushed under the weight of the gate's words.
A single heir may depart.
He had never chosen this. The shadow had always been its home.
Grayson entered the gate with Emery right at his heels. He shuddered violently as their feet made contact with solid ground. The air had changed; it was heavier and thicker. The smell of distant fire and rain-soaked concrete was carried by a chilly wind that swirled about them.
They had returned.
However, there was a problem.
Their city's soaring skyline was in front of them, unaltered but strange. The headlines of the news broadcasts that flashed on digital billboards chilled Grayson to his core.
"After going missing, Grayson Blackwell was presumed dead."
"MONARCH ENTERPRISES FALLS—IMMINENT HOSTILE TAKEOVER"
"Blackwell, Alexander: THE GHOST IS BACK?"
As he read the name, Grayson's jaw tightened. Alexander Blackwell. A man who should have remained buried in the past.
Emery's sudden intake of air reflected his thoughts. "Grayson…"
She gestured towards the skyline of the city. A strange emblem—a sign of the Shadow Order—loomed where Monarch Tower had previously stood as an unbeatable stronghold. A quiet proclamation of their dominance.
weeks. Weeks had passed since they left.
Feeling the slight vibration of something alien beneath his skin, Grayson flexed his fingers. He had lost something to the gate.
And abandoned something.
With his image reflected in the rain-stained window of a demolished office, Grayson stood in front of the broken remnants of his once-great empire. But his breath caught as he peered more closely.
For an instant, his pupils disappeared into a black void, erasing all colour from his eyes.
A chilly, delighted voice slithered through his head.
"You now bear my mark. Let's see how you handle it.
Gritting his teeth, Grayson held onto the edge of the shattered desk until his knuckles were white. He refused to submit to the Shadowbound King.
This was not the end of it.
It was a ruined city. Everything had been taken by his adversaries.
However, they had committed one deadly error.
They believed him dead.
Grayson's stare remained fixed as he turned to face Emery. "It's time to reclaim everything they took."